Not Yours
by XxxAnimaniacxxX
Summary: 'All you can hear is the screams. you know you're causing them, but you can't stop, not now.' One-sided Kames, angst, rape, Carloss/KendallorJames
1. Chapter 1

**Oneshot. I've never written anything like this before, so please bear with me! :)**

You love him. You love him so much it's unbearable. You never meant for it to happen, but suddenly he's all that's on your mind; his hair, his eyes, his lips, his body, his voice, the list goes on and on. You desperately grab hold of those moments when you're watching movies, just the two of you, and he falls asleep on your shoulder, or when he sits next to you in the limo, or when he smiles at a joke you make or even something stupid you do. His singing in the studio is hypnotizing, his laugh makes your heart pound at a ridiculously fast pace. It shouldn't hurt to adore him the way you do, but it does.

There's just one reason for that, and it drives you crazy that you can't try and push the obstacle out of your way. Because this obstacle you face just happens to be your best friend, Carlos Garcia. It infuriates you that Carlos had the guts to make a move on him when you didn't, and now you're lonely and heartbroken. Carlos would be way better off with Logan, and you wish they'd realise that and break up. But that might hurt him, and you don't want that.

So you stay quiet, unhappy and in love. He asks you for help with his history homework; you just stare at him longingly. He suggests you go out for pizza together; you're almost jumping for joy at the thought of an hour or two alone with him. Sleeping in the same room isn't enough anymore, though you thank your lucky stars that the sleeping arrangements didn't change when they started dating, that the only adult in the house was adamant about it.

Then one night, he walks in late, about eleven-thirty, after a date with Carlos, you suppose. His face is flushed and he's smiling dreamily to himself. You stand up when he comes in, and he grins at you, "Hey. I thought you were asleep."

You just shake your head as he sits down on his bed. Then you walk over and sit next to him. He looks puzzled but doesn't question it, he's so innocent like that. You can't think of what to do next, so you ask, "Where's Carlos?"

His face flushes again as he thinks about his boyfriend, and he replies, "Logan wanted to go get some stuff at the convenience store, so he went with him."

So you're alone. Your mind processes this information slowly, and then all you can think about is what you two could do, now that you're alone. Then you do know what to do, whether it's sensible or not. You lean forward and kiss him. It's everything you could've hoped for; his lips are so soft and warm, and you've always longed to kiss him the way Carlos does. Then he pulls away from you, eyes wide with shock. But you don't think; you just do, and you kiss him again as he opens his mouth to speak. You slide your tongue in, mapping out every corner of his mouth the way you're sure Carlos does whenever they're alone.

His hands are on you, trying to push you away, but your mind is so clouded with need it interprets it different. You tell yourself that he's not pushing you away, he's holding you back, because he wants you too. This is what you want more than anything, so you're pushing him down onto his back, laying on top of him as your lips remained glued to his. Then you start to kiss his neck, trying to remain gentle because you don't want to frighten him. He tries to push you away again, protesting angrily at what you're doing, because he's with Carlos, and this isn't right, and he doesn't want to, so "Stop it, right now!"

But you don't. Maybe your brain is starting to see sense, but your body is in control now, and you can't stop it. You're pulling his shirt off before he can blink, and your own follows soon after, flying onto the floor as you run your hands all over his soft, warm skin. He's even angrier now, he's yelling at you, trying to kick you off, but you've always been stronger than him, he can't do anything against you.

You move onto his pants next, unbuttoning them and sliding them down his long legs, despite all the movements that are making it difficult for you. Then his underwear comes flying off, and he's lying there, exposed underneath you, helpless in your hands. You run your fingers through his silky hair and whisper that he's beautiful, and you just can't help yourself. Then you continue undressing yourself.

Suddenly he's not angry, he's just scared. Now he's begging you to stop, but you ignore him. You're both stripped now, and you only spend about three seconds getting him ready. You just can't wait any longer.

He's still protesting as you lift his legs up so he's easily accessible. He's still protesting, squirming away, but you need him so much you don't pay any attention. You move inside of him, and you feel so contented, even though a deeper part of you feels guilty for being so forceful.

He's so tight and warm, and he feels so good around you. But you're distracted.

All you can hear is the screams. They're shrill and full of pain and terror. The sound of them makes you tremble, and you know you're the cause of them. But you can't stop. You just can't. You keep moving, keep trying to show him how much he means to you. He's crying now, huge tears sliding down his cheeks, his body jerking with sobs. But he's clinging onto your shoulders, as though seeking your protection, and you need that.

You keep going, you kiss his tears away and he doesn't stop you, just lies there weakly as you kiss him and touch touches are arousing him, even though he doesn't seem to want them to. But he can't help it.

Then you finish, and get him to finish too. You leave him, sitting up and watching him as he struggles to calm himself down. There are still tears, but they're silent now. You think it might be best to leave him alone now. So you get up, you pull your underwear back on, and you go back to your bed. But after a brief hesitation, you walk back over and fiddle with the blanket until it's covering him, keeping him warm. Then you leave him again.

In the morning, he's still curled up there, face hidden away from you. You get up, put more clothes on and walk into the kitchen, acting like everything's normal. Everyone falls for it, even when he emerges from your room with red eyes, messy hair and a slight limp. They just think he's tired, or that he bumped his foot off something.

But he avoids you. In rehearsals he won't look at you, he won't dance near you, he'll stand on the other side of the sound booth when you sing together. At the start you don't notice, but then you realise it when he deliberately moves away from you as you walk close to him. He stays close to Carlos like a shadow, never leaving his side.

A few days later, maybe a week, you're in the studio and Logan and Carlos are talking. He's there too, but he's not saying anything, just sitting there in the background. His eyes meet yours for an instant, but then he looks away. You sit down with them, join in on the conversation. They welcome you into it, they have no idea of what happened when they were out for only an hour.

When your boss, Gustavo, comes in, the first thing he says, or yells, is, "Where's the other dog!"

You look around, as do Logan and Carlos, and you realise, yes, he's missing. Gustavo points at you, "Find him, now!" so you go, wandering about the hallways, trying to spot him, occasionally calling him. You look in every studio, in the office, every other room, even in the parking lot out back.

Eventually you walk into the bathroom, and you don't see him there either. You're about to turn and leave when you hear crying. You stop in shock and listen. There's definitely somebody crying in one of the cubicles.

Deep down you know it's him, but you don't want to admit it to yourself. You stand and wait, knowing whoever it is has to come out eventually.

Then they do, and you can't deny it any longer. He walks out, rubbing at his tear-stained face with his sleeve. His eyes are red and swollen, and he's breathing unevenly. For a second he doesn't even see you. Then he looks up, and his eyes go wide, and he freezes to the spot.

And you know. You know you're the one who's making him cry, and it shocks you, because no matter how ridiculous it seems, you didn't realise until now just how much you upset him.

He looks terrified of you, but now you understand why. You hurt him, you betrayed his trust, you've made him feel violated. If he can't trust his best friend, who can he trust?

He stares at you for another second, and then he rushes out of the bathroom, barely trying to make it look like he's not running away from you.

You feel like a monster.

It doesn't get better. He still stays away from you. You still feel guilty. Then one night in the apartment, you walk in, and Logan and Carlos are sitting on the couch. Then Logan asks the question you're desperate to know the answer to: "Have you had sex yet?"

Carlos shakes his head, "We wanna wait until we're both ready," and you see him appear at the bedroom door. He's heard every word, and you can clearly see tears in his eyes and he disappears again. You feel even worse; he and Carlos were saving their first times for each other. He can't do that anymore. And despite how much you hate seeing them together, you didn't want this to happen.

You walk into your shared room, shutting the door behind you, and standing in front of it so he can't leave. His eyes widen when he sees you, just like that day in the bathroom. You swallow, almost numb with nerves. You don't dare walk closer to him in case he screams, or starts to cry. You won't be able to cope if that happens.

So you stay where you are. And you confess everything.

You tell him you love him, that you always have, that you just want him to see you instead of your best friend. You tell him you regret it, that it was the stupidest thing you'd ever done and you're really, really sorry. "Forgive me. Please?"

He stares at you for a few moments, lips parted slightly as he thinks it through. He's so beautiful that you're struggling not to pin him down and claim him all over again. Then he says, "I guess I should've realised you were sorry. Can we just forget this ever happened?" You nod gratefully, though deep inside you both know the truth. There was no reason for him to know you were sorry, because you didn't show it. He knows it too, he's just trying to make you feel better about what you did. You both know that he won't ever forget about it, and neither will you.

He'll never forget how you hurt him, and you'll never forget how he was almost yours, at least physically. He smiles at you then, and you both walk into the living room. He sits next to Carlos, and when the Latino wraps his arms around him, he's almost stiff and resistant. You wonder why.

He does act like it never happened. He treats you like he would've before, and you do the same, act as though you see him only as a friend. But one night you hear him crying in his sleep, and you wonder if he's thinking of you. You're afraid to ask him.

Then somehow your best friend finds out. You know he must've listened in on your conversation; nobody would've told him.

He's really angry, as he calls both of you to talk to him when Logan is gone. "You didn't . . ."

The silence between the three of you tells him you did.

"You sick bastard!" Suddenly he's on top of you, punching and yelling. You've fought before, always physically, but it was never real, you never actually tried to hurt each other. Now you think he really wants to kill you. And you're not surprised.

"Carlos, please!" Someone is grabbing at his arm, pulling him away from you. You know you're bruised, because you didn't even try to fight back. You know you deserve it.

Carlos is snarling at you, struggling with the hold his boyfriend has on him. "Let me go! I'm not gonna let him get away with this!"

"Just stop it! Can't you see that he's sorry?" He's still beautiful to you, even though he's crying again. He's crying because his best friend and boyfriend are fighting over him, and he doesn't know what to do about it. You know you're the only one to blame. It's not his fault; it's never his fault.

"I am sorry," you say. "I am, Carlos; I swear I am. He believes me; why can't you?"

"You fucked up my boyfriend," Carlos snapped. "Why do you think I don't believe you? Why should I? I thought we were friends, but you betrayed him and you betrayed me! I can't just forgive you!"

You know he can't, and you don't blame him. This is why you just turn and leave the room. Besides, you don't want to watch them together anymore. It hurts too much. Maybe you can't see, but you can hear.

You hear him say, "You didn't have to do that, you know." The tone he uses is disapproving, but there's something else underneath it. Love. Something he can never give you.

"I guess so. It's just . . . I just love you, ok? I love you and I don't want to see you hurt."

You hear a laugh, and know he must be smiling right now. You love his smile so much. Right now you're wondering if he'll ever smile for you again.

"I love you too, Carlos."

There. He said it. Now you know. Whatever doubts might've been in your head, whatever false hope had lingered there was long gone now. There was no more "Maybe he don't really love Carlos. Maybe deep down he wants me, not him."

Now you know the truth. And it hurts.

Soon enough you're lost in your own misery. You just can't bear the fact that he doesn't want you, he's never going to want you. But you want him, so, so much. It hurts so bad. Often, you think about ending it all, maybe with pills, or a knife. But you're scare of that, and it's too much to think that you'd never see again, never hear again, never speak again. Never see him, hear him speak, or speak to him.

You see him walking over to you. He's not with Carlos, but you don't ask him why. He rests a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. He knows you're unhappy; he's always been able to read you. Always.

Suddenly you're in tears, and he's pulling your head onto his shoulder. You don't protest, because right now everything hurts so much that you don't care he's holding you instead of you holding him, like you always hoped it would be.

You can't stop crying, and he doesn't care that you're soaking his shirt. He's there for you, like he always has been. But he's not yours, and he never will be.

As if on cue, you hear someone calling his name. You don't want him to leave, but it's Carlos calling, and you know he'll go. Because he belongs to Carlos, and not you. He stands up, getting ready to leave. And without even realising it, you take his hand in both of yours. You look up at him, and he looks down at you. He looks the way you feel; lost in your own misery. But he takes his hand away, and says, "I'm sorry. I really am."

He's not yours. That's why he's walking away.

**Well, there you go. Lol, never said who was who. You can decide yourself, or ask me if you wanna know. :) honestly, as I was finishing this I thought about making it a multi-chapter. Tell me what you think is better!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I decided to continue this! It will be a five-shot, methinks! nd, I don't think I'll reveal who's who untilthe very end, we'll see ;)**

It doesn't get any easier, watching them together. You can't get used to it, you can't forget about it. There are some moments when you wish Carlos would just disappear off the face of the earth, or just had never existed. Then maybe you would have a chance. But you know, really, that you wouldn't have. Either way you would've been to scared to make a move and someone else would have beaten you to him.

But this really isn't fair. You've known him a lot longer than Carlos has. You've been there for him longer. Who else was there the time that mean boy in first grade picked on him? Nobody except you. Who was there when his cat got hit by a car when he was seven and he cried for almost three hours? You. Always you. You were there, Carlos wasn't. Logan wasn't. Just you.

One afternoon, he just strides over to you, lips pressed together in determination. He grabs you by the arm and drags you into your room. Then he just folds his arms disapprovingly and stands in front of you. "I'm worried," he says at last.

"About what?" You wonder.

"You. You're so unhappy now. You're not supposed to be like this."

"Well, I am," you shrug, because what else is there to explain?

But he's not done. "I forgive you," he says firmly. "You're my best friend, and that's not going to change. And I know it might hurt a little, but I think you should move on. Get with other people." He gives you this sweet smile that takes your breath away. "You're a great guy. You're gonna make a very lucky girl or guy really happy."

You nod, "I guess so. Thanks." But you doubt he's right. He's likely the only one who could ever make you happy. But you missed your chance, and you blew it all, and he's right, you should try and move on, even if it's difficult.

So you do try. It is tough, but you can try.

You'll do it for him. You'll do anything for him.

Time flies when you have a distraction, and suddenly a month or two has passed since he told you to move on. It's very, very difficult, but you really are trying. You've been on a few dates with various girls, and one or two guys. It's not the same, but you try to make it work. Sometimes, you really can forget about him, and how you feel, but more often than not something happens that reminds you of him, of everything.

Then it's Saturday night, and Guitar Dude is hosting a party. Everyone is going to be there, including the teenage residents of 2J. You're admittedly excited, because you haven't been to any kind of social event in a while. The only downer is that he'll be there with Carlos, as a couple, but you refuse to let it sway you. You're going to have fun. Determined to.

You go down a little earlier with Logan to give Guitar Dude a hand with the finishing touches. You're looking for any distraction you can find, after all. People start arriving, and soon enough the place is packed. You're looking around to see if he's arrived yet. Somehow you just can't enjoy yourself without him there. Then they arrive together, hand in hand. Carlos immediately looks so protective of him, and you understand why. He looks so beautiful, so desirable, that it hurts to look when Carlos put his arms around him in the middle of the dance floor.

You turn away, and spot something that makes something in your brain click. Camille is standing by herself, sipping from a little paper cup. You walk over to her, with a new determination. You're going to have fun. You're going to move on. You greet her with a cheerful smile, and she seems happy to see you. You talk for a while, but you just want to get to it. To move on. You move a little closer, and she seems to like it. Then when you kiss her, there's a spark. It may not be as strong as the one you felt you had with him, but it's something. You're holding her the way you held him, and she's holding you back. It should be perfect, but it isn't.

You pull away quickly enough. Camille is smiling; she obviously liked it. But then you ignore what she's saying. You turn around, and you see him, staring at you. Carlos is next to him, but he's talking to Logan and totally distracted. He's looking at you, and for a little while you can't tell anything from his expression. But then you realise he looks slightly . . . unhappy, and you have no idea why. Then he turns to Carlos, says something to him, and walks away through the crowd.

You're so confused at this point; does you being with Camille bother him? Why is he leaving the party early? You start worrying that he might be thinking about what happened between you, because it's still a sensitive subject for him. So you turn, you say goodbye to Camille, "Maybe I'll call, I'll think about it," then you leave, making your way in and out of the groups of dancing teenagers towards the apartment door. You're going to get to the bottom of this.

Because when he's unhappy, so are you.

**I'm sorry this is so short and...bad. but I couldn't put any more in without moving the story on WAY too quickly. Soo, um, let me kno if you want me to say who's who or not, or if you want it to wait until the end. Please let me know, and give me your thoughts on this (terribly) short chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Welp, here it is. lol, all you of you mean people not entering my challenge...*cries* oh well! I hope to get kames oneshots updated tomorrow, but I doubt it'll be done by then. still, look out for it anyways!**

Getting up to the apartment doesn't take long at all. When you get there, you don't see him in the living room or kitchen, so you can only assume that he's in your room. So you go in, and see him sitting on his bed, head in his hands. He looks up in surprise when he sees you, and gets to his feet. "Hi," he says in a tone that indicates he's trying to pretend that he's ok, when he clearly isn't. "What's up?"

"Well, I want to know what's up with you," you say slowly. "You were acting weird at the party, watching me and Camille. Then you just took off."

He looks slightly worried. "And . . . why does that matter?"

"I'm just concerned is all." And confused, but you don't mention that in case it puts him off.

It's a moment or two later when he speaks. "I don't even know why I left," he says softly. He's standing right in front of you, close enough to touch. But you don't dare. "Well, actually I sort of do. I saw you, kissing Camille, and it's dumb because I'm the one who told you to move on, but then you were there, with—with somebody else, and I realised . . ." he trails off, biting his lip. Then a minute later, "I realised that, I didn't like it. I minded."

You can only stare at him. You still don't understand. Yes, now you know that he clearly didn't like seeing you and Camille, and that's why he left. But you still don't understand why, why that would bother him. And then, suddenly he kisses you. At first you can't move a muscle; the shock completely paralyses you. You're too stupid to do anything, and then it's over, and he's pulled back. He still looks so lost and worried as he looks you in the eye. "Why did you do that?" you ask quietly.

He swallows, but shakily replies, "I wanted to."

That's all you need to kiss him again. But it's not like before, when you stole his innocence and terrified him beyond belief; you hold him tenderly, and he's kissing you back, an arm placed around your neck, almost like he's afraid for it to be there. Your tongues clash, because it's not just you making the move this time, it's him too.

You barely realise you're moving until he's seated on your bed and you're on top of him, still kissing him gently, and he's kissing you back. It's amazing, fantastic, and suddenly his hands are under your t-shirt, pulling it off. Your response is to rid him of his own shirt, before moving down and leaving soft kisses all over his neck and chest.

He's pulling at your jeans now, and you're only too happy to give him a hand, tugging them down your legs and tossing them away. Then his disappear, and it's only now that you realise exactly which direction you are heading, what he's been heading towards.

"Are you sure you want to?" you ask, because you're worried. Really, really worried. "I mean, after how . . . how it happened last time . . ."

"I want to," he cuts in determinedly, because Carlos seems to have vanishes completely from his mind, and you don't know how. But you love it. "Just be gentle," he adds quietly, nerves in his voice that you easily pick up.

"I will," you say quietly, leaning down to kiss him again. "I promise."

All you can think is _'need, need, need'_, you want him so desperately and preparing him for what's about to come takes far too long. When you move inside of him, he's whimpering and whining and for a terrifying second you think he's changed his mind, but then he's pulling you down for another kiss, and whispering for you to, "Move, please . . ."

So you do. Just like that. At first, you try to go slow because he's still fragile in your eyes and you don't want to hurt him. But that's not what he wants; he wants more, and when you strike that sweet spot of his, any common sense remaining between you two just vanishes, never to be seen again.

He's moaning something that sounds suspiciously like your name as you move in and out of him, his legs wound tightly around your waist, his heels digging into your back. It should probably hurt, but it feels so good; when you feel his fingernails digging into your shoulders possibly hard enough to draw blood, you love it, and it only drives you to go faster, harder.

This is perfect, it's almost all you could ever want. Him lying underneath you, you making love to him. Well, maybe to him it's just sex, but that doesn't matter to you, what matters is that it's actually happening, and he's not crying, he's not screaming for your to stop, he's telling you to go on.

When you eventually reach your climax, you catch his lip with yours again, and you hear him moan against you as he loses it too. When you eventually calm down and can breathe regularly again, you pull out and lie down next to him. You're afraid to take him in your arms, like you so desperately want to.

He's just lying there, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. "What am I going to do?" he whispers. And you're not sure if he's talking to you or to himself. You answer anyway.

"You're going to talk to Carlos," you say comfortingly. "It was a spur of the moment thing. He won't be too angry."

"Yeah, an impulse thing. I guess so." He doesn't look entirely happy, but gets off the bed, cleans himself off and starts to pull his clothes back on.

You watch him and resist the urge to cry again. He was yours again, just once, but now he's going to go back to Carlos, and make up some excuse about why this happened and how he didn't mean it, that he doesn't really want you. When he stands up full y dressed, he turns around and slowly moves forward, giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry. I'll explain everything to him."

Then he leaves the room with a slight limp. All you can do is roll over onto your stomach and bury your face in the pillow. It hurts, more than you could have imagined. It hurts even more than the first time this happened. What truly makes it worse is that this time, he wanted it, but he still doesn't want you, still doesn't love you.

You don't know how long it takes before you decide to get dressed too. But you hear the apartment door slamming and decided it must be close to midnight, or some other late hour. You hear, "Hi, baby," in an affectionate voice and realise it's Carlos. So you immediately make your way towards the bedroom door, leaning against it and listening carefully. If the confession's going to happen, you want to hear it.

"Where's Logan?" you hear him ask in that angelic voice.

"Staying a little longer. I just got bored down there." A pause. "Is something wrong?"

"Carlos, I . . . I have to tell you something."

You listen carefully, ear pressed against the door.

"Um . . . I . . . remember what happened, with me, and—"

"Yes, I remember," Carlos cuts in, because how could he forget? "What about it?"

"I . . ." He sounds so lost it breaks your heart. Still, what's new? "It happened again . . ."

"What? You're fucking kidding me! I swear—"

"No, it's not his fault!" You hear a sniff, and he sounds tearful as he continues. "It's mine. I . . . it wasn't rape this time. I'm so, so sorry, Carli."

There's a long, terrible silence. Then Carlos slowly says, "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking, we just . . . I don't know."

Another silence. Carlos sounds reserved as he says, "You have feelings for him, don't you?"

No he doesn't, you think to yourself bitterly. When you only hear a few muffled sobs, you're surprised when Carlos gently continues with, "It's ok, that you don't love me. You thought you did, I understand. But you love him, don't you?"

You almost faint when you hear, "Yes. I-I think I do." He's talking again before you can grasp what has just happened, "I didn't realise it for a while. I mean, I had a crush on him for a while when I was younger, but it never went anywhere and you asked me out, and I like you Carli, I really do, and then that . . . well, the incident happened and I was really scared but I felt sort of connected to him, but I didn't think anything of it, and then earlier I saw him with Camille and I just . . ." he trails off. You just can't believe it. He had a _crush_on you, and you never noticed? All the trouble you could've saved everyone . . . and he loves you. He says he loves you.

You're still contemplating this. You don't hear the little click of a door opening. You're still leaning against the bedroom door, and suddenly it disappears, and you fall onto the floor with a thump. You look up to see Carlos standing there, looking unhappy but not completely heartbroken. "Carlos," you start to say quietly. "I . . ."

"Shh. It's fine I knew you'd be listening here." Carlos smiles and pulls you to your feet. "Just, take care of him, ok?"

You can only nod as Carlos leaves the room. You turn to see him, looking at you with sad eyes. You walk over to him until you're only inches apart, and hold your arms out. And he walks into them, just like that. You hold him close to you, because you can tell that's all he wants right now, and you're ok with it.

He's yours now. That's all that matters.

**Well. Yup. REVIEW!**


	4. Epilogue

**I decided to finish the story here, so this is an epilogue. Which is why it's so short.**

It's been six months. Six months since he and Carlos ended what they had, and he came to you. Six months since you actually strted to feel happy. It took Carlos time to forgive you, and you're still not sure if he trusts you completely. You'll just have to deal with that. It's a consequence you face and put up with.

Four months after you and him ended up in each other's arm, Carlos and Logan turn out the same. It started with Logan wandering up to you, awkwardly mentioning hat he might possibly have feelings for the Latino. You immediately encourage it and tell h you always thought they'd e good together. Because it's true; you do.

More than a few nights you crawl out of the bed you and him now share and sit somewhere else in the apartment because you just need space, just to think about how it all turned out. About how you still often have that nagging guilty feeling in your gut about the people you hurt just to get what you want.

"Hey."

You look up and grin. "Hi." He's standing by the kitchen counter, hair tousled from sleep, eyes half open and looking so sweet it makes your heart melt.

"I woke up and you weren't there," he says sleepily, walking over and sitting next to you. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

"I'm just thinking," you reply, smiling a little when he rests his head on your shoulder. "About everything."

"Oh." He sighs, snuggling closer to you. "Why?"

"I don't know, really. I've just been doing it a lot lately." You pause. "I've been wondering, about how different things might have been if I'd caught on to how you felt before you and Carlos got together."

"You know what? I honestly don't think this would be very different. I mean, we would still be like this. Carlos forgives you, or at least he almost has completely. He has Logan now. But I don't know, maybe it was meant to turn out this way."

"Why do you think that?" you can't help asking.

"I have no idea. I mean, I never would've thought you actually had feelings for me too. I never thought you'd rape me—"

You flinch at the ugly word, and he notices.

"Sorry, sorry . . . I didn't think you would, force yourself on me like that, but you did. And I didn't think I'd fall for anyone who did that to me, but I did. Because it was you. I mean, deep down I still really liked you, and loved you, I guess. And what you did sort of proved you felt the same way . . . and Carlos found Logan, maybe that was always meant to happen. I know it might sound a little corny, but . . . it's starting to make sense to me now."

"I guess I understand what you mean," you reply slowly.

"Well, good. No more thinking for you, then." He gets to his feet and pulls you up too. "Come back to bed, ok? We have an early start in the morning." He moves to walk away, holding onto your hand, but you stay still. He turns back to look at you with concerned eyes. "What's wrong?" he asks you quietly.

"I just . . ." No more grieving about the past. "I love you," you whisper, arms around his waist as you kiss him gently and lovingly. All you've ever wanted.

"I love you too, James," he replies, kissing you back. "I'm yours."

**Welp, now you know who's who. It has been revealed! Sorry about the length. Big thank you to everyone who favourited alerted and reviewed this! XD**


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